


If x, then y

by SapphicScholar



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Fluff, Pride, Sanvers - Freeform, coming out arc, confused baby gay Alex Danvers, misuse of the scientific method
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 10:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/pseuds/SapphicScholar
Summary: Prompt from @bathtimefunduck for college au in which Alex tries to scientific method her way to some kind of conclusion about her sexuality.It’s over 6k of tooth-rotting fluff, and I hope you enjoy it. Happy birthday!!





	If x, then y

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bathtimefunduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bathtimefunduck/gifts).



> A/N: This fic is set in 2008 for approximately accurate timing on when Alex would’ve been an undergrad.
> 
> If anyone is looking for a different take on Alex’s use of the scientific method to figure out if she’s gay, you might want to check out Hypothesis by NerdsbianHokie (Directorship instead of Sanvers) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579937

Alex clicked her pen open and close, open and close, open and close until her roommate snapped at her to  _knock it the fuck off, Danvers, some of us are still working!_  She switched to drumming her fingers against her upper thigh. At a certain point she ended up in her bed—part of her still objected to calling the damn twin-sized cots  _beds_ , but it worked well enough.

She decidedly did not look into her bag where she knew she would find a flyer for the San Francisco Pride Parade that she’d ripped off a campus bulletin board, unwilling to be caught staring at it for long enough to see all the details.

Because looking at something like that might mean she was…that she belonged there. And the whole issue was that she didn’t think she belonged there, had no inkling that she might have until a few weeks ago. But during study days—god, she was already so stressed, and really, Maggie should have known better than to talk about something possibly life-changing  _then_ —Maggie had dragged her down to the classroom where she had her 8am Intermediate Intensive Russian course every day of the week.

_“What?” Alex asked, unwilling to waste another minute that could have been spent studying unless it was an emergency._

_“You’ve been acting weird.” Maggie wasn’t sitting—had nudged Alex toward one of the desks but resumed pacing herself._

_“I mean…I’m stressed. It’s finals, Maggie. Everyone’s acting weird.”_

_“It’s more than that.” Maggie licked at her lips, her features pulled tight. “It’s—ever since the big party on the last day of classes. You—you won’t look at me, won’t stand in the same room as me.”_

_“What?”_

_“Alex.”_

_And Alex felt her heart clench because Maggie looked upset—genuinely upset—and she didn’t know what it was about, but some part of her suspected she was the cause of it. “What? I really—I don’t know, Maggie. I’m not _—_ we’re not—it’s fine. I’m just stressed.”_

_“Alex,” Maggie repeated, her voice strained. “You know I’m gay.”_

_Alex paused, her muscles tensing. “Yes.”_

_“And at the party…at the party we danced. But not like _—_ not like we normally do.”_

_“Yes.” Alex gave a curt nod, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She could remember all too well the way she had dragged Maggie into her space, felt her heart jump as Maggie's hips moved in rhythm with her own._

_“And you told me to crash at your place and let me curl up with you in bed. And I—I was drunk and stupid and, and…”_

_“Maggie, it’s fine.”_

_“So you know what I’m talking about.”_

_Alex’s whole body seemed to clench, her mind whirring at the memory of curling closer and closer into Maggie’s warmth, her whole body relaxing under the gentle strokes of Maggie’s fingers up and down her back, until one hand was suddenly on her hip and on her thigh. And she didn’t know what to think about it, certainly hadn’t given it any great amount of consideration to it. The only thing she did know was that her body had reacted to it, her hips jumping under Maggie’s touch and her breath coming in stuttering gasps and her mind crying out that she wanted more _—nothing specific, just more, of Maggie, of that, of everything_. They both froze then. Unwilling to dwell on what any of it meant, Alex feigned sleep not too long afterward, feeling as Maggie soon drifted off beside her._

_“I don’t…there was nothing.”_

_“Alex.”_

_“It’s fine. We were both drunk.”_

_“Alex, I like you.”_

_“I like you too. You’re my best friend.” They both knew it was a cop out the moment it left Alex’s mouth._

_“You know that isn’t what I meant.”_

_“It’s fine. I mean, it’s flattering, really. I just—I’m not gay. I have a boyfriend.” It took Alex a moment too long to recall his name. “Matt.”_

_“Yeah,” Maggie huffed. “And when’s the last time you went on a date with Matt?”_

_“He gets that I’m busy.”_

_(Alex ended up dumping Matt via text message not long after that, but it was definitely because of her summer course load, not anything Maggie had said.)_

_“Are we gonna—”_

_“It’s fine, Maggie. Nothing happened. You’re gay. I’m not.”_

_Maggie’s face hardened at that. “You know, you say that a lot for someone who doesn’t act particularly straight.”_

_“Whatever stereotypes you’re about to list out aren’t proof,” Alex snapped._

_“I’m talking about the fact that the second you have even half a beer, you want to hold my hand. I’m talking about the fact that within a date or two with a new guy, you’re complaining about how much you hate having to spend time with someone, but you’ve never once complained when I ask you to come over. Or maybe I’m talking about the fact that when I”—Maggie took in a shaky breath—“I shouldn’t have done it. I was drunk and stupid, and I'm sorry. But when I got closer to you, you—you whimpered, Alex. You whimpered and pulled me in and didn’t let go of me.”_

_“Because I trust you, that’s all. I didn’t—I don’t have time to talk about this.”_

_Alex was up and out the door before Maggie could respond._

The fight had kept her awake even more than the late nights spent in the library with too much caffeine coursing through her veins. And it wasn’t just the new weirdness with Maggie; it was the implications of everything Maggie had said. Because, sure, Maggie had taken it back a day or two later, excusing away her words by saying she was tired and grumpy and stressed—just like Alex—but Alex knew better. She knew Maggie didn’t say things without any thought at all. So they haunted Alex. For weeks. And now it was, apparently, Pride, so the whole campus and city were shoving reminders of all of it into her face at every turn.

But she was a scientist. Or at least a scientist in training. She could do certain things well. And maybe knowing herself via her emotions wasn’t one of them, but knowing herself via testing and hypotheses—that was.

For a moment, Alex deliberated pulling out a notebook, but she decided she really didn’t want proof of what she was doing lying around. So she fell back against her pillow, closing her eyes and picturing the steps of the scientific method. She remembered having to draw that chart back in grade school, remembered falling in love with all the rules that made sense out of random trials and numbers. Surely it could do the same here.

**Step 1: Ask a Question**

That much was easy, Alex thought.  _Am I gay?_

The sense of accomplishment made her proud.

**Step 2: Do Background Research**

That one left her tip-toeing into the computer lab in the early hours of a Saturday morning when no one taking summer classes was up yet. (She wouldn’t risk it on her own computer where it might somehow end up linked to her Facebook or show up if a friend asked to borrow her computer or still be open when her roommate got back—too many risks.)

She found there was both too much and not enough information out there. So much of what she definitely didn’t want to see and too little when it came to definitive answers. And apparently there were so many different things she could be, and that was almost scarier than anything. The scariest, however, was when someone else came into the room. Alex threw herself over the computer monitor and blushed a deep shade of red before closing all the tabs she had opened and scurrying out of the room.

**Step 3: Construct a Hypothesis**

Normally that was her favorite step. She tried several variations before getting to an overly reductive:  _If I am attracted to women and not to men, then I am a lesbian._  But then there were variables, like the levels of attractiveness of the men and women involved. Because maybe in a given situation there would be men she wasn’t attracted to everywhere and one really gorgeous woman, and did that even mean anything? Because aesthetic beauty was totally a thing, and noticing that probably just meant she…she spent too much time in art museums growing up, not that she was...the other thing. Eventually Alex decided that she needed to find the kinds of people society deemed good looking and go from there. It was shallow and vain, but she was desperate, and that seemed like it would expedite the process.

But Maggie had once told her that she wasn’t looking for the same things in a woman as a straight dude was, so Alex ruled out the possibility of grabbing the latest issue of some random gossip magazine from the local newsstand. The flyer for the pride parade called out like a siren song. Surely, if there were women that lesbians liked anywhere, they would be at that parade.

And as much as the idea of going to said parade terrified Alex, it was also such a simple way of getting to the next step.

**Step 4: Test Your Hypothesis by Doing an Experiment**

The parade was perfect; it set the stage right and brought the best looking people her way. There were the women that should be attractive to lesbians: check. And then everyone seemed to agree that gay boys were, on average, better looking than straight boys—or at least they cared more—and Alex had thought that the boy with the rainbow keychain in her O-Chem class had been rather pretty, so it seemed like a good bet. And there would be droves of people, so repetition without much difference in setting could be guaranteed.

The only part of the plan that was truly upsetting was the fact that she needed to be sober—best results, clearest measure of consistency. Besides, she still attributed so much of what had happened—or not even happened, god, she was starting to sound like Maggie, turning it into a whole big thing—to the fact that they’d both been drinking. But she could do it, could stay sober. For science.

So Sunday morning Alex got up and got dressed in shorts and a tank top and applied enough sunscreen to probably limit herself to a minor burn—little more than pink skin and a faint itch that would fade in a day or two. Following the directions, she strolled into town and hopped on a bus that would take her across the bridge and into San Francisco and over to the parade.

Even blocks and blocks away from the official parade route, Alex could feel herself growing overwhelmed. But she had a plan, so she persevered.

Pushing close enough to have a good view of the parade route but not to be so close that she couldn’t look around her—which was sort of the whole point—Alex settled in on a raised section of curb that gave her a better vantage point. Now she just needed to look.

 _Independent Variable_ : the people that walked into her line of sight

 _Dependent Variable_ : her assessment of how attractive they were—not in a general sense, but to her

With all the determination and concentration of a scientist set up in front of a burette, Alex settled her eyes on the crowd around her.

 _Subject 1:_  tall, blonde, and handsome; six pack abs; silver glitter making him shimmer in the sun; no hair to be found on chest or arms, which made Alex glance down at the strip of dark hair she’d missed on her own calf the night before.   
 _Conclusions:_  very attractive man who Alex knew she would have no chance with. She wondered if that was why she liked him. Because he was safe. Because there was no chance this man would turn around and ask her out, unlike the guys at bars and clubs who always seemed to have a reason for staring at her, an agenda she had no interest in following. 

 _Subject 2:_  a lanky, dark-haired woman; a white tank top that managed to hang in places, the girl was so damn tiny; no visible bra which…Alex guessed that could probably work if you were small enough; skinny jeans on even in the midday heat; a permanent smirk playing on her lips and a laugh that was deep and gravelly and filled Alex with a rush of warmth.   
 _Conclusions:_  she was one of the women Maggie talked about. She had to be. Because she wasn’t the right kind of hot to be in, like, movies or whatever. She didn’t really have boobs or a butt or anything like that, and her hair was kind of shaggy and not feminine, but she was undeniably hot, and Alex spotted more than one group of girls looking at her and edging closer to her during the course of her observation. Alex wondered what it meant that she, like the gay women, found her hot. If she was straight, shouldn’t she have found her not right in some way?

 _Subject 3:_  a curvier woman with purple-ish hair and a tight shirt that left Alex’s gaze falling to places she suspected were probably inappropriate to be looking at on a stranger; a mini rainbow flag clutched in her hand; stickers and pins about reproductive justice stuck all over her bag and shirt; she joined up with another group of people all in matching purple shirts, one of which she grabbed from their bags and threw on over top of hers.   
 _Conclusions:_  inconclusive. She was pretty, but she didn’t send a rush of heat through Alex, so Alex suspected it wasn’t attraction as much as it was aesthetic appreciation.

 _Subject 4:_  more piercings than Alex could count; jet black hair slicked back with gel; his hand in the back pocket of another guy’s jeans.   
 _Conclusions:_  maybe in another life, but not for her here.

 _Subject 5:_  large, hairy man in all leather, which seemed incredibly impractical in the heat; surrounded by other men in similar clothing, which made Alex think it was definitely a  _thing_ ; belly laugh loud enough to reach her and make her smile.   
 _Conclusions:_  also definitely not her type.

 _Subjects 6 and 7:_  a boy and a girl that looked to be about Alex’s age holding hands and wrapped in a bright pink, purple, and blue flag that was different from all the rainbow ones she’d seen everywhere; the boy was tall and muscular with dark skin and a booming laugh that made the girl with him grin and kiss his cheek; the girl was little—so little, especially next to him—with dark hair and green eyes and a smile that made Alex’s heart race.   
 _Conclusions:_  he was definitely an attractive man, but Alex couldn’t picture ever doing anything with him, couldn’t imagine them out on a date or holding hands or kissing or dancing. She tried to convince herself that it was because he was clearly taken, but that didn’t seem true because she could definitely imagine herself doing something with the girl—maybe not  _everything_  with her, but she could feel her breath growing shaky as she let the force of her own attraction wash over her.

 _Subject 8:_  kind of looked like the star of the Stanford soccer team if he aged a few years and let his hair grow a bit longer; the epitome of what Alex used to describe as her type; messy brown hair that looked like it would be soft if she ran her hands through it; a warm smile and nice pink lips; muscular arms that weren’t so big as to be called jacked but could definitely be enough for him to pick her up and sweep off the contents of a desk before putting her down and making out with her.   
 _Conclusions:_  he was hot, which could probably be stated as a general consensus. Alex agreed with said general consensus. She could picture making out with him, so it must be attraction. But then…but then Alex tried to push it further in her thoughts and hit a roadblock. Because she could admit that it…it turned her on a little bit to think of passion so intense that it needed to be indulged right then and there, stacks of files and pens be damned, but the man, hot as he was, was elusive, even in his starring role. He faded into a nameless, faceless body, and somehow conjuring him in all his specificity left Alex feeling cold.

 _Subject 9:_  tall and beautiful and striking in a way that drew Alex’s eye; long dark hair that looked shiny and healthy, like it belonged in a shampoo commercial; her high cheekbones and close-mouthed smile reminded Alex of paintings of royalty and queens they’d had to study in her AP European History class in high school; a light blue and pink and white striped flag hung from her shoulders, and Alex made a mental note to look up what all the different flags were when she got back home, unwilling to draw her mother’s ire by using up the data with her “unnecessary” usage of the internet that would probably be slow in crowds like this one anyway.   
 _Conclusion:_  maybe Alex had a slight preference toward finding women beautiful. Maybe.

 _Subject 10:_  short-cropped dark hair and a sleeveless t-shirt that left strong, muscular arms on full display; she was…beautiful wasn’t the right word, but Alex didn’t think handsome was it either; she carried herself differently than Alex did, her stance wider and her voice just a little louder in the crowds than Alex would dare to let her own be.   
 _Conclusions:_  Alex hesitated to use words like enamored, but she also couldn’t quite pull her gaze away—not even when another woman came and wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist and let herself be tugged into a kiss that set Alex’s blood on fire and finally forced her to avert her eyes out of fear of looking like some sort of creep.

A few minutes later, Alex heard the roar of engines. Loud cheers erupted all around her. She listened in to the group of women to the right of her and heard them talking about something called Dykes on Bikes. It was then that a fleet of shiny black motorcycles emerged. Alex blushed at the sight of the drivers who looked so cool and confident, straddling powerful motorcycles that purred and roared beneath them, and blushed an even deeper shade of red at the mainly topless women riding behind them and waving flags and cheering more loudly than most of the crowds.

A minute or so after the last of them turned the corner to head down the rest of the route, two older women—probably about her mom’s age—turned around and noticed Alex perched up on the curb.

“Oh, sweetie, do you need sunscreen?” one of them asked, nudging the other, who went digging through a canvas tote bag, handing over a bottle of water, then a thing of chapstick, then a granola bar, and finally a big bottle of sunscreen.

“What?”

“You look like you’re getting burnt,” the one from before explained, pointing at her own cheeks.

 _Oh_. Alex didn’t want to admit that that she had already put on loads of sunscreen and suspected the red cheeks had more to do with the topless women than the UV rays. She stuttered out something to the effect of, “It’s okay, really.”

“Oh no, I remember my first pride,” the one with the canvas bag laughed. “I came back with a farmer’s tan to last a lifetime!”

“You always have a farmer’s tan, Maria.”

“Well you didn’t know me back then. Maybe that was the first time, and I’ve never gotten it to go away.”

“Or maybe it’s because you garden in a t-shirt and refuse to put sunscreen on your arms because—”

“I’m Mexican! I don’t burn!”

The other one—the not-Maria one—fixed Maria with a stern glare and pursed lips. “Doesn’t mean you don’t get darker, and then you complain about ‘weird lines’ all year as if there was no possible way it could have been prevented.”

Alex’s gaze flitted between the two of them until suddenly their attention was back on her.

“This your first pride?” Maria asked.

“Um…yes.”

“Anyone know you’re here? You look a little overheated. Here, we have extra water.”

“I…I’m really…you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense.” Not-Maria waved off Alex’s concern, shoving a bottle of cool water into one of Alex’s hands and the bottle of sunscreen into the other. “I’m Judy. This here is Maria.”

“Um, Alex.” She waved with the hand with the sunscreen in it, and they both smiled at her.

“How are you enjoying it? This is a big parade for your first one,” Maria remarked, laughing quietly at a joke Alex didn’t know about.

“I—it’s…fine, I guess?”

“How’d you find your way down here?”

“Don’t ask that, Judy! Poor dear looks a little overwhelmed.”

“There, uh, there was a flyer on campus.”

“You go to school in the area?” Judy nudged the bottle of water in Alex’s hand, beaming when Alex took the hint and brought it up to her lips to sip at it.

“Stanford,” Alex mumbled, letting herself be led forward a few paces to the spot Judy and Maria had claimed for themselves where she could still see the parade almost as well but was able to stand in partial shade.

“Good school.”

Alex let out a noncommittal noise.

“Any of the girls here catching your eye, or was it someone back at Stanford that brought you out here?”

“Judy!”

“I’m just asking! You’re the one that said you missed playing wingwoman now that most of our friends are all coupled up.”

“She’s clearly a little overwhelmed. Give her a minute.”

“I, um…” Alex took in a deep breath. If anyone seemed a good bet for talking, it was probably these two, who were now pushing a bag of salted, dry-roasted almonds her way. “Back at Stanford.

“See!” Judy crowed. “Want to tell us about her?”

“I don’t—I’m not sure if it’s…if it’s anything.”

“Between you and her or between you and, uh, women?” Judy asked with a knowing smile and a soft, understanding expression.

And Alex didn’t really think she was going to be doing her data analysis on the fly at the parade, but apparently Judy and Maria were going to be the extra push she needed.

**Step 5: Analyze Your Data and Draw a Conclusion**

“Both?” Alex answered, her voice wavering with uncertainty about the whole thing.

Maria hummed in understanding, then pointed toward the street. “Good contingent coming—all the folks campaigning against that goddam Prop 8. Some of our friends are marching, so we have to cheer extra loud.”

Alex found herself nodding and yelling loudly right along with Judy and Maria until that group passed.

“Thank you.” Judy clapped Alex on the shoulder. “They’re trying to take away our marriage when we finally made the damn thing official.”

Alex tilted her head to the side.

“After the Supreme Court case last month,” Maria volunteered.

“I saw the news that morning and got down on one knee right there in my bathrobe and slippers.”

Maria smiled up at Judy and let herself be guided into a soft kiss that left Alex looking away, feeling as though she had intruded upon some intensely private moment.

“Anyway, the bastards are trying to take it away again, but we’re door-knocking and campaigning.”

“You have to hope the whole arc of justice thing is true, right?”

Alex nodded slowly. She vaguely remembered reading about the ruling, but it was during the build up to final exams, and she’d been a little busy, and then there was Maggie, and with all of that she really hadn’t wanted to look at anything that had to do with gayness or gay people or all the things that Maggie seemed to think she was. “I, um, I hope you can stay married.”

“Ah, we’ve been married for almost a decade. Only the official paper is new.”

“Wow.”

The two women squeezed each other’s hands.

After several long minutes of watching the parade, Judy nudged Alex’s shoulder. “Want to tell us about that girl at Stanford? And don’t forget to apply the sunscreen.”

“Right,” Alex mumbled, putting down the water bottle to free both hands. As she rubbed it into her cheeks and over her nose and forehead, Alex let out a dejected sigh. “I don’t know. She’s my best friend.”

“Always is,” Maria chuckled.

“She just—she’s, you know, gay.”

“Mhm.”

“And she—we kind of—I don’t know. But she told me she likes me—like, likes me  _like that_. And I, well, I had a boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, we broke up a week or two later. I—I didn’t particularly like him.”

“Mm.”

“But my friend, she, um, she thinks I’m also, you know…”

“Gay?” Judy and Maria filled in.

“Right. That.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Maria asked.

“Confused mainly.” Alex accepted the almonds again and shoved a handful in her mouth, thinking as she chewed. “Because it didn’t seem like that was me. But then…I don’t know. We’re not really talking much now, and I miss her. I miss her so much. And maybe it’s not…not normal to miss someone who’s just a friend that much.” Alex let out a huff of air. "Then I started thinking—thinking about me—because of what she said, and now I can’t really stop thinking about what she said.”

“It’s okay to be confused. You don’t have to know right away.”

“No,” Alex insisted with a shake of her head. “I really—the uncertainty thing isn’t working for me.”

Judy chuckled, stepping around Maria with a whispered, “Sounds more like me than you.” She regarded Alex for a long moment. “You a scientist, Alex?”

“Um, maybe one day. I hope.”

“I get it. I work in a lab. And there—there it’s really great to have things that are testable and provable. But sometimes things are sort of messy out here, and you’ve gotta embrace it. Otherwise”—she shook her head with a laugh—“otherwise you’ll drive yourself mad.”

“And you might miss out on some good opportunities,” Maria chimed in.

Judy fixed her with a glare that held no malice. “Maria might have been the out and proud one of the two of us when we first met. And I—I was confused as hell. But I let myself say yes even though I wasn’t sure. And, well, 20 years in, I can’t really say I’m complaining.”

Alex slowly bobbed her head up and down. She tried to think about what it might mean to say yes to Maggie, and she couldn’t help the way her heart thudded against her ribs like it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Because it sort of seemed like…like if she thought really hard about it, saying yes might be everything she wanted to do, might make that last little piece finally fall into place. But the idea of getting back and finding Maggie and having to say the things…it also made her feel a little bit like she was going to throw up or hyperventilate or pass out or maybe all three.

Maria tsk-ed and shot Alex a sympathetic look before motioning at the big, gaudy float rolling down the road. “Come on, try not to worry so much right now. Let’s enjoy the rest of the parade.”

Alex found she enjoyed it even more with the stereo-style commentary of Maria and Judy as they cut each other off and finished each other’s sentences recounting stories from over the years. As the minutes ticked by, Alex realized she had stopped trying to catalog her reactions to every person on every float or in every marching contingent, instead noting the causes and the organizations that went by and hearing the stories and histories being told.

By the time the parade wrapped up, Alex felt calmer, like something inside of her had shifted and settled all in the span of an afternoon. She still didn’t know if she was a lesbian, but she did know that there were happy gay people out there. She did know that she had Judy and Maria’s phone numbers tucked into her pocket with the promise of a dinner to celebrate if she ever got to a conclusion. She did know there was the possibility of an internship in Judy’s lab the next summer if she kept her grades up. She did know that there were an awful lot of women around who made her heart race and her stomach flip-flop and her cheeks flush with heat.

But none of that prepared her for the sheer rush of emotions that crashed over her at the sight of Maggie Sawyer—the first time she’d seen her in weeks, and of course she looked beautiful and put together with little strips of glitter by her eyes and a tank top that showed off the strong arms Alex had gotten to see in action when she went to Maggie’s softball games. It took a moment to notice that Maggie was headed her way, which, Alex belatedly realized, was also the way back to the bus stop.

Judy and Maria turned in unison at the squeak. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um, I just—hide me?”

They promptly hopped in front of Alex in a blocking wall facing the exact opposite direction of where Alex needed them.

“Other side,” Alex hissed.

They shuffled over not at all inconspicuously. “Why?” Judy whispered back.

“Um…remember Stanford girl?”

“Alex!” Maggie’s voice was loud enough to be heard even over the din of the departing crowds.

Judy and Maria looked up at the sky as they held their post.

“Alex Danvers!”

Alex ducked lower.

A moment later, Maggie stood, arms crossed, in front of Judy and Maria. “Alex, you’re not short. I can see you.”

“Oh!” Alex feigned surprise as she straightened up, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “Didn’t see ya there, Mags!”

Maria rolled her eyes, earning an elbow in the side from Judy.

“Do you, um, want to take the bus back with me?”

“I—I should, uh…”

“We’d be very happy to hear that you two both have a riding buddy to make sure you get back safely,” Judy announced, ignoring Alex’s betrayed glare. “Isn’t that right, Maria?”

“Oh yeah. It can get rowdy on the buses after the parade. Best to go in pairs.”

“You heard your, um, friends.” Maggie narrowed her eyes at the two women she’d definitely never seen before.

“Fine,” Alex mumbled. She followed Maggie for a step before turning back. “It was, uh, really nice to meet both of you. Thanks for talking to me. And for the sunscreen. And the water. And the snacks.”

“Anytime, dear.”

And then Alex found herself being welcomed into warm arms and hugged tightly with whispered well wishes and one encouraging, “Go take a risk and get the girl!”

**Step 6: Communicate Your Results**

They walked a few blocks in silence before Maggie spoke up. “So…didn’t really expect to find you there.”

“I was, um, experimenting.”

Maggie’s expression flashed from shock to hurt to anger in a matter of seconds.

“Not like that! I mean, um, like, deductions and stuff.”

“I’m not following.”

“Like, you know, trying to figure out if, um, if what you said was…true.”

“And you thought instead of talking to your best friend it was better to go out and try to hook up with some random person?”

“What? No! I didn’t—that wasn’t the point. I was seeing, you know, if I…if I liked women.”

“So. What are the results, Danvers?”

“I, um, I don’t know. There are—there are some pretty women.”

Maggie let out a gruff noise that Alex wasn’t sure what to make of.

“And, uh, I got to talk to Judy and Maria, and they made it—um, they made it seem a little less scary.”

“Kay.”

“But”—Alex took a deep breath, willing the surge of nausea to fade and her heart rate to slow—“but none of the women I saw were as pretty as you.”

Maggie scrunched up her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, coming to a standstill on the sidewalk, not caring about the droves of people forced to part around them. “What?”

“I…I thought, you know, I’m a scientist. Conclusions aren’t real or valid or whatever unless the experiments can be repeated and hypotheses tested and all come out with the same results again and again and again.”

“Oh-kay…”

“So I wanted to see…I needed to see. Because your words, well, they made me think about things. Things I didn’t necessarily want to think about. But they—they also made me realize things. But I tried to discount those things, you know?”

“Maybe.”

“Like—like maybe it was just a you thing.”

“I’m not following.”

Alex groaned, rubbing at her forehead. She resigned herself to missing the 5:50 bus. “I mean…I mean you’re my best friend. And I trust you with everything, literally everything. And you’ve been the person I wanted to spend all my free time with for what’s felt like a long time now. And you make me feel safe and happy and—and loved. So, right?” Alex shrugged, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “How could I  _not_  like you?”

“I—I don’t—”

“Just, um, let me finish?”

Maggie nodded, falling silent.

“But if I was going to tell you that I liked you…I felt like I needed to suddenly know something about myself that I didn’t know. Or wasn’t ready to know. Or still don’t necessarily know with certainty.” Alex rubbed at the back of her neck, hating how stilted the words sounded. “I thought if maybe…maybe if I could just go and see other women and other men and try to figure out who was attractive to me, that I could have an answer. And then…and then maybe once I did, I could tell you something that had some grounding in truth—like, a really certain truth.”

“So…did you figure anything out today?”

“No,” Alex laughed. “Or, well, not with the certainty I wanted.”

“I see.” Maggie’s features hardened and she turned, pulling her bag tighter against her as she trudged back toward the bus stop.

“No! I mean—I mean,” Alex stammered, her hand falling to Maggie’s arm. “I don’t know anything certain because no one there could really compare. Like, maybe I could conclude that I had a preference for women or something. But even the ones that I thought were hot or whatever…they weren’t you.”

“Alex. What are you…”

“I thought that something drastic had to change between friendship and, you know, liking someone…like that. And you’re still—I mean, you’re my best friend, you know? And that hasn’t changed.”

“Okay.”

“But since you said…those things during finals, I can’t stop thinking about other possibilities. And they’re scary because they’re new and not something I can predict and know in advance. But…but I think with you? I think they might be worth the risk.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Maggie’s forehead crinkled—rather adorably, Alex thought—and her expression seemed to war between a kind of guarded hopefulness and wary skepticism.

“I think…I think I like you, Maggie. And I don’t know for sure if I’m”—Alex took a deep breath—“gay. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve never felt the way I feel for you about anyone else. And so if you’re, you know, willing to take a risk on someone new and uncertain and kind of confused, I think I’d like to take you out. On a date, I mean.”

“You promise not to go MIA on me again?”

“I promise.”

“And we’ll talk when things get confusing?”

“I’ll try.”

“Well then…I think I’d like to accept that date offer.”

“Really?” Alex pulled her lower lip between her teeth, her face breaking out into a beaming smile the moment Maggie nodded.

And then Maggie was back in her arms, hugging her and holding her close, and Alex felt like her heart was cracking open to something new and rich and deep even as it was mending itself from the long weeks away.

“I, um, we missed the bus.”

Maggie waved away the concern. “Yeah…there’s more, though, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know! I just meant, well…we could maybe go for that first date around here. If you want.”

The corners of Maggie’s mouth quirked up into a grin. “I think I’d like that.”

\---

That night, Alex sent a text message to Maria and Judy: “Thank you for talking to me today and for the sunscreen—no sunburn at all! And thanks for sending me to the bus with Maggie. We talked and, well, we went on our first date. She says thank you too.”

Her phone buzzed back with congratulations almost immediately, and Maggie cackled at the excess of exclamation points. “You really went to pride and came back with two middle-aged friends, huh?”

“I also came back with a date…”

“Mm,” Maggie hummed, “that”—Maggie paused, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to Alex’s lips and beaming about the fact that she could do that now—“that is a very good point.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr @sapphicscholarwrites and Twitter @sapphicscholar


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